Patricia Magdalena Redlin
Bio
Writes short stories, novels + memoirs.
Ethnicity: American-Mexican.
Degrees: BA French + MBA-IM.
Languages: Spanish/German/French/Italian.
Professional experience: Includes marketing + project management. Freelance translator since 2011.
Stories (7/0)
Patou et Boeuf - Duck and Beef
When we landed in Luxembourg this morning, it was all I could do to find my suitcase in the mess of luggage that came pouring down onto the baggage carousel, hunt crazily through the terminal for the taxi stand, arrive at the train station, pay the taxi driver way too much money, buy my train ticket to Paris and another one to Avignon, and get on the train. I slept all the way to Paris, only waking up to show the border crossing guy my passport. When the train arrived in Paris, the only reason I woke up was because the guy next to me was getting off there also, and stepped on my foot really hard as he climbed over me in the tiny train compartment. I probably would have eventually noticed that the train had stopped in the station and had gone silent, but I didn’t want to miss the train to Lyon, so I am kind of glad that guy woke me up. I almost never ride trains at home, and I was looking forward to hours of watching the French countryside and cities pass by through the huge windows, but I missed it all. It did feel good to sleep, though it wasn’t nearly enough.
By Patricia Magdalena Redlin7 months ago in Chapters
Is the Mirror Not Our Reflection?
The mirror showed a reflection that wasn’t my own. It was leaning against the wall on a shelf at “Antiquités, etc.,” an antique shop that I visited every couple of weeks to see if anything interesting appeared that might be worth buying. I was examining a tiny porcelain mouse, about the size of half of my pinky finger, that was missing its tail but was otherwise in good shape. I was wondering if I could fashion a tail for it out of a leather string or something. It would match the other tiny porcelain objects I like to display on one of my living room windowsills. I now had so many that I had to swap them out once in a while. Every time I got bored with the display of tiny things, it was fun to go “shopping” in the box in the closet where I stored the porcelain and other small, thought-provoking items. I always tried to figure out a theme when I picked out new items to display, like “animals” or “pink things” or whatever matched my mood and each other. I couldn’t always figure out a theme for a display, so sometimes it would just be “hodge-podge.” But the hodge-podge displays never lasted long. The untidy mismatch of items made me stressful and headachy.
By Patricia Magdalena Redlinabout a year ago in Fiction
Ski Slope
We drove across this guy’s ski hill twice and pretty much ruined it, but it really wasn’t our fault. We had driven into this little town in the Alps somewhere in Austria to go skiing the next day on one of the huge glaciers they had set up as a ski resort. There wasn’t much snow that winter but the glaciers still had enough at the tops to get some skiing done. You had to walk down the rest of the mountain from halfway down, unless you wanted to scrape your skis to pieces on the dirt and rocks, but that was okay. At least we were skiing the Alps.
By Patricia Magdalena Redlin2 years ago in Fiction
Oh, those poor duckies
Erica was a wary adult. She made her way carefully around her life and world. She had been tricked or lied to so many times that - although she still believed everything anyone she didn't know said - still. She was well aware that the look on her face said, "Soft, kind, empathetic, just plain nice person who believes anything anyone says to her." Or maybe there was a large N for Naïve flashing in neon pink on her forehead that everyone but her could see. This nice expression or pink flashing N attracted all kinds of people to Erica.
By Patricia Magdalena Redlin3 years ago in Fiction
The Princess and the Peep
There was once a prince, and he wanted to find a princess to marry, but he was a rather stuck-up and entitled prince – he was a native of New Holstein and not one of the rare nice ones – so the princess needed to be a real Princess. With an upper case P. He travelled right and left and up and down and all around to find his Princess bride, but there was always something wrong. There were plenty of princesses, but he always had questions regarding whether they were real princesses. Every single one of them had something that was not quite right about them. Here’s an example: There was a princess who lived in New York…so you would think that just by being cool enough to live in New York, she stood a good chance of being a real Princess, but no, you would be wrong… Her problem was that she smelled like a goat. Literally. She showered or bathed daily and used flowery-smelling soap. She also washed her hair at least twice a year. Oh wait. That was the problem with her. She didn’t have any sense when it came to hair. She didn’t realize you had to wash it at least every few days. So she smelled like an extremely dirty goat.
By Patricia Magdalena Redlin3 years ago in Futurism
Hexenzauberbuch
Hexenzauberbuch By Patricia Magdalena Redlin It’s a tiny book, as small as one of those mini dictionaries that were popular back in the late twentieth century, until smartphones became ubiquitous. She herself owned two of the mini-dicks (as she had called them). Just the thought of the nickname she had given to her two tiny dictionaries causes a giggle to escape, along with the usual snort. She never learned how to giggle without snorting.
By Patricia Magdalena Redlin3 years ago in Futurism
